When the Lights Are On
by x-MJ-x
Summary: When Hotch rescues Emily from the clutches of a familiar cretin, what will ensue and can he make her better, when the lights are on?


**Hello everyone :-) **

**So, as a result of an invitation from my totally incredible friend _Tigerlily888_, I find myself embroiled in the Twitter- Hotly-smut-off Craziest Places challenge. I did attempt to remind her that this being me, there was every chance that I wouldn't have a story ready before the cut off on Sunday but she did insist so I spent yesterday considering a storyline, this morning having a quick through of the standard – amazing girlies and I will leave you all reviews just as soon as this is posted- and now here I am. I must also therefore thank all the girlies involved in the challenge for your support and for allowing me to participate – love you all. **

**I kind of have to thank _Thetruthbetweeen _firstly once again for her amazing review on _Mistletoe _which still has me giggling and secondly because she was the reason why this idea formulated, you don't even know what you've done yet do you? But thank you, this one is dedicated to you. **

**I don't have much else to say other than that I hope that my humble little story lives up to the standard, reviews as always are like sunshine on a rainy day. **

**My author's note is the same as ever: I DO NOT own Criminal Minds, its plots or characters – they are property of CBS and its affiliates, all recognisable dialogues will be marked in italics. Also the inspiration for the theme in this one came from the song _'shelter'_ by a little British singer named Birdy. If you haven't heard her version please do check it out – it is so haunting and beautiful and if any lyrics are reproduced here, they should be credited to her...**

* * *

The internalised scream which ripped through her body, was the last remaining vestige of her pain. Had the scream been vocalised it would have told of a horrific terror, a pain so deep she felt it in her heart, it would have been the scream of a woman who wished for nothing but death. That was precisely the reason why she would never let it escape her dry, chapped lips – not even the pain of death could frighten it from her system. The tears she had shed had long since dried and now she sat, sedate and resolute – her eyes closed to the blackness as she waited. How long she wasn't sure. Had days past or merely hours since her team mates had flashed up onto that screen and she had begged for their lives? She wasn't sure and this lack of control was the thing which unsettled her most of all. All she could do now was wait, for death or whatever atrocity he decided to enact next. She had always known that when it came to her ending, should it brought about by this particular captor, it would not be slow and easy. He would not grant her a death so simple and she understood that. But that didn't mean that she didn't wish for the comforting ebb of an eternal slumber. It would be preferable to this, almost anything in the world was preferable to the torture of not knowing...

She had given up the will to fight sometime after she had felt his hand on her, his calloused fingers, reaching for the zipper on her black jacket. Her skin had begun to crawl the second his slightly moist skin had touched hers. The only relief she had been offered as he began to part the jacket, was the knowledge that his fingers shook – not from excitement but from nervousness, it was the last satisfaction she could find in this seemingly Godless environment. After the panic-inspiring sensations of the stifling air on her exposed torso followed directly by the sharp and searing electrical heat of the iron as it made that first excruciating connection with the skin on the inside of her left breast, she had given up hope. Not simply of her own escape but of the escape of all those she loved. No one would find her here and he had made sure that the last living memory she had was one which was inexorably linked with him.

Her mind raced with all the things she should have said, all the things she should have done but had never had the courage to see through. The words 'I love you' overwhelmed her and she knew that they would become just as lost as she was bound to.

"I'm sorry Aaron." She whispered, not even recognising the strangely pained voice which filled the silence. It was an apology for everything and yet in the end it was worth nothing, those words would never reach his ears and it was her fault. For thinking that she knew best, for isolating herself, for never letting him in. God knew he had tried. He had been trying for six months and still she had been a vault, always finding a new way to push him away. It had worked of course. Here and now in these undeniably final moments she would be alone, as she had always wanted.

It was this thought, which against her better judgement saw Emily Prentiss beginning to cry again. The sobs she desperately tried to contain choked in her throat and she knew that this submission was precisely what _he_ had been waiting for. Right on cue she heard the scrape of metal on metal as a key connected with a lock. It didn't take long for his figure to fill the doorway and then to be bent in front of her as he knelt on his haunches, forcing her to look at him. His iron like grip on her chin was enough to make her cry out in pain again, but somehow she managed to suppress it, biting down on her tongue until she tasted blood. In that instant, when she had nothing left to fear, she opened her eyes...

* * *

Her blazing chocolate orbs connected with the steel-grey counterparts of her captor and he felt then an overwhelming sense of her contempt. He had expected nothing less and the fact that she was conforming so easily excited him beyond belief.

"What do you want?" She spat, hatred colouring her voice.

"I want what matters most to you." He told her simply.

"I'll never tell you." She was defiant, though her voice waivered the tiniest bit.

"You just did. So _Aaron _Hotchner is it _love_?" The way he said that final word sent a shiver of repulsion through her body.

"Don't you dare, don't you dare hurt him!" She was yelling now and she knew that her passionate response only fed into the fantasy he was clearly making her a part of.

"Oh I won't hurt him. If he dies, it'll be because of you not me. We're going to play a little game you see..." His lips brushed against her forehead.

"I'm not going to play games with you Ian." She told him, using his name for the first time since he had come back into the room.

"I think you will... If you don't, I'll just send my men out there and have all your interfering little friends killed right now." Doyle replied, his hand resting on his gun holster threateningly.

She paused, taking a moment to consider this. She had trying playing a game with him before and she had lost once already. She couldn't assume that she could outsmart him, because now this was about so much more than a battle between them. She tried to think of something clever, tried to formulate a plan but in her present situation handcuffed to a chair in the middle of some pitch black hell-hole with no idea how to get herself the hell out of this, she was drawing a blank. She hung her head, refusing to look him in the eye when she committed the final betrayal to everything she believed in...

"What do you want me to do?" The words were barely audible but his wicked smile told her that he had caught them...

* * *

His body pressed firmly against the wall, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he continued on into the now even darker warehouse. Since the local PD had authorised the cutting out of the already limited light, they had gained advantage and had taken out three of the men posted on sentry duty around the complex which the warehouse was a part of. Despite eliminating these three men, he kept his hand steady as he raised his arm in front of him, letting his gun lead as he made his advance.

He should have waited for back up, if it had been any of the other members of the team he knew he would have written them up the instant they got back to the uni, but something strange had overcome him and he powered forward, leaving the barely audible sounds of the team's foot falls far behind him. Although Garcia had obtained a blue print of the building, it had many link corridors and passages and around every corner, he sensed danger. His heart began to sink when at every turn, he was rewarded for his tireless searching with nothing but the absence of the woman he was desperate to find...

Perhaps they had misjudged Doyle, perhaps his endgame was not concerned with what he supposed to be Declan's final resting place at all, but rather more to do with Emily's presence. Still it would have been oddly coincidental that they had already taken out Patrick O Donnell, Doyle's most loyal follower. Aaron got the sense that wherever the pack leader lay, there to would be O Donnell. This was the only motivation which kept him moving along in the limited visibility because if he left and she had been here he would never forgive himself...

He heard the faintest commotion somewhere behind him, followed by the low grunt of Derek Morgan in his earpiece telling him that two more had been taken out. That was two less for him to worry about sure, but he wouldn't rest until he had searched every crevice of the building for the woman who held his heart.

* * *

Emily stared into the searing eyes of Ian Doyle and saw a fire there ignited by her compliance. She sat opposite him, her legs in chains and one hand cuffed painfully behind her back. He sat in that easy manner which told her without words that he was the one in control. She couldn't exactly argue with him. Even though for all intents and purposes he was exposed, there was after all no one providing him cover in this room, he clearly did not see her as a threat. She had to admit, he was justified in treating her presence here so casually. She might have been an agent, but right now she was pathetic. She had been beaten, branded and made powerless and the worst of it was, she had let him do that to her. After years of swearing that no man would hurt her like he could, she had given into her nemesis.

Between them, atop a cardboard box which was currently acting as a game board, sat a chess set. This was what it had come down to. All the years of vengeance and all the years she had stove it off in an attempt to protect Declan had come down to a simple game of chess. It was hardly surprising, she was only sorry she hadn't anticipated this cruel twist in the battle. As Lauren Reynolds she had played countless games like this – only the rules had been less deadly. He had never put her at the advantage - that had been the source of his fun. He would start with a full arsenal of pieces whereas she would be given 'the key players'. Ordinarily the number of 'key players' he afforded her was directly proportionate to the number of garments she had been wearing at any given time. Naturally, the object of the game had been concerned with his relentless attack until she had lost all of her pieces and consequently her clothes. Here though, the aim of the game was nothing so harmless.

She played white, 'the colour of surrender' and she had six pieces, seven if she counted the black queen he had placed in her arsenal. This was really no advantage at all. It was simply symbolic. 'I already own you, you belong to me'. It was now simply a case of how long it would take him to own the other pieces. So far, she was holding her own – she had yet to lose a single one of her pieces and yet she had robbed him of five pawns. This gave her confidence, although she knew she could never win. He was luring her closer, making her think that as was her goal in this deadly game, she could safely get her six players – directly representative of her six friends and teammates across the board. Of course, he would never let this happen. He was just letting her know that unlike her, he possessed players in this game who were expendable. Every piece she possessed represented a life and every life had its bounty attached. For every one that she lost, a death more horrific by degrees than its predecessor would be enacted on its living representative until finally, he would attack her King. The man who had her heart. Her pulse raced just contemplating the death he had described as the price for losing that piece and yet she knew she would lose it. That was going to happen and she knew that the deaths of her teammates had more than a passing likelihood of occurring too. Ian was smart, but he was not a man of metaphor – he never had been. He moved out another of his pawns, he was playing it safe – because he could. So long as his King remained untouchable then that was his sole focus. Emily winced inwardly as the pawn was moved into a spot which threatened her rook - Reid. God not Reid...

Her fingers brushed the bishop, representative here of Morgan, she had to wipe that pawn out if she hoped to protect her friend for one more move. Just as she was about to move, the one bare bulb in the room in the one cut out and then they were alone in the dark...

* * *

She pushed her bishop forward blindly, listening in the darkness as his piece responded to her move. She couldn't assess the damage that this blind move could have done; she just hoped that Ian was playing fairly. She reached out to test this theory. Thankfully, her fingers brushed the cross atop the King on her side of the board. She took her opportunity, grasping the piece firmly in her hand in a last ditch attempt to save the man she loved.

She was aware of only two things after this, Ian springing from his seat opposite her as he realised what she had done and another much more hopeful sound in the darkness. A single voice, the voice of an angel.

"Ian Doyle, get on the ground, this is Agent Hotchner, FBI."

Emily held her breath for a moment, it was going to be Ok – she was saved. Tears spilled fourth as she wrapped her head around this concept. But so blinded was she that she completely forgot the presence of the deadly man in the room with them. Until... There was a new sound filling the room, the sound of a gun's safety as it was released...

"HOTCH!" Her piercing scream was the last thing she remembered as she felt a blunt object, most likely the butt of Ian Doyle's gun, connect with her skull. In her flux between the world of consciousness and the delicious escape of unconsciousness she perceived from a distance the sound of a gunshot ringing out...

* * *

He leaned over her, his breath hot against her face as if their very closeness would revive her – as if by some miracle his breath would give her the life she so desperately needed. It had been ten minutes and still they were not able to induce her out of her state of limbo-like unconsciousness. Nevertheless, the rise and fall of her chest gave him hope. At least she was alive.

He rested back on his haunches with a look of wild desperation in his eye – if she would only respond, give him some sign. They had removed her cuffs and he grabbed her left hand, the hand which had already been free, squeezing it tightly in his own.

"Emily, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand...Please." He begged, squeezing hard as if this would provide the stimulus for her response.

Her head was swimming and she was fighting the onset of a deep and consuming fog. She was vaguely aware of a familiar voice in the distance, but even this did not seem to be enough to pull her out of her current state. She was fighting but she felt like she was losing, until that was she felt something bite into her skin, not so much to draw blood, but to cause discomfort enough to force her to open her eyes...

* * *

Her eyes flew open and this time, instead of meeting with emotionless steel-grey they were greeted by eyes so filled with warm concern that she knew she was safe again...

"Emily." He breathed out her name like it was some kind of miracle, she supposed for a minute there it must have seemed like that to him.

"Hotch?" She began, her voice giddy with confusion.

Her mind ran through the events as she remembered them and as she craned her neck to look down between them, she felt his hand on hers and she also felt the source of her discomfort. She pulled her hand free of his, careful not to do so too abruptly as to make him think she didn't appreciate the contact. She opened her hand out and there, balanced in her palm was the white King she had taken out of play.

"You're safe. Thank God you're safe." She murmured, the tiniest smile creeping onto her chapped lips.

"Me? I was more worried about you." His tone was anxious, almost as if he thought she was delirious. She was in many ways, but one thing was clear. She had to know whether the team were safe.

It was this single thought which had her clambering to her feet unsteadily and despite the protestations of her superior.

"Emily – what are you doing?" He was using his 'I'm your boss' tone, even though she didn't deserve that courtesy in the slightest.

"The others... The others... Are they?" Her sentence broke off as she felt the room spin. Grabbing her head as a jolt of pain shot straight to the spot where she had been hit, she felt her legs turn to jello.

"Emily!" His tone was panicked now and he rushed to her side, his strong form acting as her frame as he helped her to avoid collapse.

* * *

She wasn't wholly aware of what happened next, it felt like she was living in a dream state, not fully in control of her body and not able to participate in the world around her. She was only aware of becoming weightless, a feeling she discovered which was produced by the fact that he had swept her into his arms and was holding her tightly against him like she was a child, helpless and in need.

It seemed to take forever to navigate the many corridors of the building but she sensed that he was living by the principle of heading towards the light. She would be glad of that welcome intrusion into this perpetual blackness but other than that, she didn't mind if he never let her go. She could focus only on the feeling of their bodies as they moved as one. His legs powered them forward and with every step he took her body brushed against the FBI vest he wore, causing the strangest of feelings to rise up from deep within long dormant recesses of emotion.

"Ok?" He asked, not referring to her current state exactly but rather checking that she was still with him, that he hadn't lost her now that she had been found...

"Mmm hmm." She murmured, turning her face against his shoulder.

"You're going to be fine." The assurance seemed as much for him as it was for her.

"I was... so scared... it was so dark." She mumbled almost imperceptibly as a fresh wave of tears began to hit her.

"It's Ok." He soothed, wanting nothing more than to hold her this way forever to keep her safely by side. "I'm here... We're all here." He qualified as if he were desperate not to let her know how personally he had taken the responsibility of finding her. She nuzzled her head closer to him and she swore, even in her state of limited awareness that she felt his chest tighten beneath her weight.

What had seemed to Emily to be hours, merely took ten minutes. Ten minutes during which he fought a battle with his inner self and all those emotions harboured by this secret part of himself. Ten minutes when the feeling of her body against him was the best thing that had ever happened to him and the most torturous. He hated himself right now. She was bruised, beaten and broken and yet all he longed for was the feeling of her skin on his, he longed to possess her, to ensure that nothing bad could ever happen to her again. He breathed in her scent in that final moment before he exited the building, knowing that this would likely be the only chance he ever got to experience her so personally without any resistance on her part. As he stepped into the light he tried to ignore the strong, metallic scent of blood which filled his nostrils...

* * *

It had been frenzied: there had been tears of despair, tears of joy and tears of relief. There had been familiar voices, six of them in total and assurances that everyone was Ok. There had been begging, there had been pleading and there had been forgiveness. Such had been her reunion with the team and through it all she had clung to Hotch as if he were her life support machine. Not once had he tried to disengage her from him, never once had he protested when her hands had clawed at his vest with a feral wilderness – she had to be close to him, this was the only thing which had made sense to her in those first moments of complete freedom.

He had been there, quiet and yet speaking volumes whilst hands, both familiar and unfamiliar had grabbed onto her – some for reassurance that she was indeed real and others, she imagined the attending EMTs for example, checking vital signs and other such health related issues. It had been a hard bargain to drive but somehow, she had managed to convince everyone concerned that she would not go to the hospital. Perhaps this was stupid, she had been beaten, burned, branded and her head had been hit probably repeatedly with the butt of a gun. Her friends shot worried looks her way but they dared not challenge her – it was miracle enough that she was alive, they would not push her away now.

That was how she had come to be sitting in the Yukon, shivering and giddy whilst outside, beyond her view the team were probably discussing a way of getting her to give in and go see a doctor. Her breath came out in cold wisps and she wished that Hotch had at least left her the key. She knew why he hadn't though. He probably imagined, more accurately than he would like to consider that she would attempt to run.

Whilst she was glad that the team were safe, she wasn't sure how she felt about having to face their questions. She was a person they no longer knew, someone they could never hope to understand and every time they looked at her she would know that they were trying to get beneath her skin, to profile her and to comprehend just how she had managed to lie to them for so many years. But still she sat here because being out there, alone and cold in the dark was the one thing that after her experiences tonight, she feared the most.

* * *

She sat there, in a trance like state staring eternally forward and waiting for something... After the longest time, she heard the click of the door as it opened and there was a brief commotion as someone sat in the seat beside her. She did not even have to turn her head to know that it was him. It wasn't so much a sixth sense to his presence but rather the repugnant smell of her own blood as it mingled with the scent of his cologne which told her that her companion was Aaron Hotchner.

Their silence was loud and it was this condition which alerted her to the acute sound of the thumb-lock as it was depressed. She felt her chest constrict as the ability to breathe seemed to desert her. She had already been feeling confined, but now faced with a lack of escape route she felt more trapped than ever.

She knew she was having a panic attack and she could not find the words to articulate this to him, she took heaving breaths but nothing seemed to work. She flailed around desperately for the lock and it was as her nails scraped desperately at the interior of the Yukon that she realised he wasn't going to help her this time. He wanted her to stay here. He had something to say to her and she was not going to be allowed to leave until she heard him out.

His hand closed around hers in a steadying motion, the weight of it serving as her connection to this world and the concentric manipulation of his thumb against the back of her hand seemed to calm her immeasurably.

"I've got you." He whispered as he felt her beginning to relax against him. After a while her head fell back against his shoulder.

"It's so... dark..." She whispered, not even sure in her delirium whether she meant here or in her memory of her entrapment.

"I know... it's Ok." He murmured, casually reaching up to the roof and flicking the switch on the overhead panel until a small orb of light was produced. "Better?" He asked, feeling her tense grip on his bicep release a little.

"Much." She replied, hardly prepared for the moment when his soft lips brushed against her hairline, just shy of the spot where she had been hit.

She was shocked into silence as the warmth of his breath and the softness of his lips treated her with such tenderness but she couldn't move. She was not willing to surrender this contact, however forbidden or wrong it might have been.

"What're you doing Emily?" He asked after a while, his tone gravelly.

"What am_ I_ doing?" She asked in surprise, ready to fly at him for his blatant reversal of blame here when his next words stopped her, the protest dying on her lips.

"I meant you're not well, you need proper medical attention – you need a hospital." He told her with force.

"I'm fine." She deadpanned.

"Emily whatever you are, you are _not_ fine." He told her firmly.

'_Whatever you are_.' What did _that_ mean? How was she supposed to take _that?_

"What does that even mean Hotch?" She replied bitterly. Was he really going to go there tonight?

"I just meant that you need to think of yourself..." He replied and although she could find nothing disingenuous about this, she was still feeling sensitive and suspected a double meaning.

"No... What you meant was that you don't know what I am anymore, or who I am! That's what you meant." She spat back sharply.

"Emily you're reading too much into it, you're feeling exposed. I wasn't thinking about anything else, I'm worried about you that's all." He told her, feeling hurt that she would suspect him of having malicious intent.

"I'm fine." She repeated again, though she knew this was far from true.

"Ok, you're fine, I understand." He told her, holding his hands up in surrender before going for the lock. If she wasn't going to talk that was Ok. He had hardly expected her to, he had just wanted to check on her.

As he flicked the lock, he felt her hand close around the crook of his elbow. He looked down at this tenuous connection but did not comment, waiting to see what she would say next. For a while she was quiet, seemingly just getting used to this new physical contact but then he watched her lick her lips in order that she could find her voice.

"You saved me... Thank you." Her words were barely a whisper.

"Emily, there's no need to thank me – Stopping men like Doyle is what we do." He told her, noticing the impersonality of his response.

She looked up at him with slightly sad eyes and he knew that he had disappointed her. She been expecting him to say something other than what he had, something more significant and personal and he had failed to do that. He drew in a deep breath, silently berating himself for not being up front with her. Had tonight taught him nothing? He had almost lost her and still he was willing to dismiss his feelings for her like she meant nothing to him, all because he was afraid of the woman she had become since her past had come back to haunt her.

"Well, like I said thanks." She repeated, looking away.

His heart raced as they sat there in now awkward silence and he tried to contemplate how the hell to get himself out of the hole he had dug for himself.

"I'm sorry Emily. I didn't mean that at all. You know me, I'm not good at this stuff." He told her sheepishly.

"_This stuff_?" She asked not entirely sure what he meant.

"Personal stuff." He told her, cringing slightly.

"Is there 'personal stuff' here?" She motioned between them, her fingers flicking back and forth between them repeatedly in her nervousness.

"Emily you know there is." He replied without hesitation and she was overwhelmed by this. When they had started seeing each other outside of work she had treated it as some kind of experiment. She had wanted to see if there was indeed something there between them and for the briefest of moments she had thought there might have been. But each time they saw each it was just for dinner. He would take her to some place, he would talk, she would talk, he would pay and then he would drop her at her building. No kiss goodnight, no attempt to come up. No suggestion that he wanted her to be anything more than a companion. Still, the way he was looking at her now made her sure that there could be no mistaking what he meant and she honestly didn't know how to respond. Her silence was threatening because he couldn't understand it. He had never been able to read her with all her boxes and her compartmentalisation skills but he couldn't bare the fact that she simply said nothing...

_*****Maybe I had said something that was wrong*****_

"Isn't there? Emily?" He roused her from her silence after a while, his fingers settling on her chin as he pulled her beautiful, tearful and sad face around so that he could look into her eyes. She winced at first, half expecting the vice-like grip of Doyle but she soon allowed him to manipulate her when she realised that his touch was far gentler, that he would hurt her.

"I think I always thought there could be, or should be or... something...I'm not making any sense am I?" She let out a little half laugh to cover her insecurity.

"It makes perfect sense to me." He smiled a little, letting his fingers trace the planes of her face, taking extra care around the sensitive area just above her temple. "You know, I thought I had lost you." He told her, his chest tightening as she scooted a little closer.

"Well ditto." She murmured, the words becoming slightly constricted in her throat as she concentrated on the sensations caused by his touch.

"Why couldn't you let me in Emily?" His question was quiet and non accusatory.

"It's me... You know I don't do this personal stuff." She threw his comment back to him.

"Touché."

Neither of them seemed to know what else to say. It wasn't as if they had just declared an undying love for each other, but something had just happened. Something significant but which could not be put into words. She slid her hand back into his and let it rest there a moment, even this simple action seeming alien.

"Will I ever be Ok again?" She asked, resting her head back onto his shoulder as she had done before.

He didn't say anything for a while, it was all well and good giving her assurances but he knew she wouldn't believe them. That didn't mean of course that they weren't true, it simply meant that her faith in humanity had been shaken and right now she simply couldn't believe them. When words seemed to fail him, he resorted to the only thing he knew would tell her that she wasn't alone.

He reached out, his hand blindly finding the thumb lock again and depressing it. The slight click of this action caused her to turn towards the noise with a curious expression. The depression of that lock meant something that she couldn't quite comprehend, or if she could she pretended not to. As a consequence of this she was not entirely surprised when she turned back towards him and he leaned towards her, his lips catching hers easily and gently...

_*****Please teach me gently, how to breathe*****_

They were both still for a moment, the shock of his action stunning them both for a moment. Eventually however, she pushed herself away from the seat, moving herself instinctively closer to him and pressing her lips more firmly to his. He was gentle, always gentle as he began to pull at her swollen lips coaxing and teasing a response from her. She did not need much persuasion. Her heart raced and seemed to swell in her chest as her mind tried to process this moment. Somehow, it didn't seem to fit into any of her boxes and yet despite the implicit wrongness of this disassociation, she could not bring herself to pull away. It felt too good to experience him this way. Seconds of long and gentle pull and push became minutes and in those minutes he seemed to become more desperate. Soft teasing became gentle nipping and this caused short and sharp jolts of pleasured-pain to run from her now tingling and frightfully enlivened lips to her very centre – a now burning inferno of emotion.

His nips became more insistent, designed to procure a specific response from her. It wasn't difficult to establish what this was and despite her better judgement she found herself giving into him, the surrender this time sweet. A small and deep groan of pleasure escaped her at the exact moment when she began to taste the familiar metal of blood as his impassioned kisses became too much for her poor, desperate lips. Her mouth parted instinctively and he took advantage of this, his tongue plundering forth into the sweetness of her inner most cavern. He stroked at the soft walls of her mouth, his tongue desperately trying to acquaint him with the woman he had wanted for most of his professional life. Soon he felt the powerful pull of her own tongue silently begging his indulgence. It didn't take long for the two urgent muscles to be twisting violently with one another making the separation of the two bodies seem logically impossible.

He felt her shifting restlessly against him as the nature of the kiss became more feral. Somehow, she had managed to go from sitting beside him to a kind of half crouch which looked to be just about the most uncomfortable position he could imagine. Despite his reluctance to relinquish his possession of her lips, he pulled back a little and allowed her to make herself a little more comfortable. She lifted her knee and positioned it on the other side of his until she was straddling him. As she settled herself down, they both took a moment to appreciate the new turn they were taking.

"Hotch..." She started but honestly she didn't know what she had been about to say.

When she couldn't find the words, he spoke for her. "Emily... Listen to me, I don't want to waste any more time. I thought I had lost you for good and I couldn't bear the thought that I hadn't told you how I felt about you..." His words carrying an urgency which was inspired by the high passion of the moment.

"I... I always thought, I mean I kind of got the impression that you weren't really interested in me that way." She told him, looking away in embarrassment.

"Not interested? Where would you get that idea?" He asked quirking his eyebrow inquisitively.

"Well we saw each other outside of work for what six months and never once did you give me any indication that you wanted something else... something more..." She paused, watching his pained expression as she made this admission.

"I'm sorry you felt that way but I promise you Emily... _I always wanted you_." His last words were whispered throatily and accompanied by a slight shift in his body, a motion which left no doubt as to the extent of desires.

Her response was unintelligible but for a low and guttural moan which escaped into the air around them. His lips went to her chin, brushing the skin there which still bore the marks from Doyle's vice-like grip.

"I don't want to be alone anymore_ Aaron_." She mumbled, her arms encircling his shoulders as his lips went to her neck.

"I don't want you to be alone anymore... I don't want to wait anymore." He replied and his remark caused her to pull back a little in order to establish what he meant.

"What're you-?" She started but he silenced her with another kiss.

"I'm saying I don't want to wait anymore Emily." He repeated and the implication of this finally hit her.

"Here?" She whispered in disbelief.

He looked up at her with dark, burning eyes as his nodded 'yes' and she recoiled just the slightest bit further, shocked that he would be so daring.

"But the team..." She made to protest but again was cut off, this time by his reply.

"They're all helping the police wind this thing up – we're alone Emily, just you and me." He assured her.

"In the Yukon? What if someone sees?" She asked pragmatically.

"You know how these vehicles work – we can see out but they can't see in." He replied with an easiness of tone which surprised her.

"You're really serious?" She tipped her head to one side a little.

"Only if it's what you want." He told her.

She nodded, almost imperceptibly like she was afraid to admit that she actually wanted him. After everything it seemed wrong. She had betrayed him, she had lied to him and yet here he was – holding her tightly and keeping her tethered to the real world, his body warm against hers and his presence the light in her darkness.

"Is it what you want?" He asked for clarification.

"Yes." The word was breathless and half finished since the second that first phonetic construct escaped her, he was once again plundering her mouth.

Soon, it was no longer just their tongues which twisted and tangled. Their bodies had become entwined and for every thrust of his tongue into her sensitised mouth, she felt her body grind somewhat involuntarily against his hips.

"Aaron... Aaron wait... There's something you should know..." She breathed against his cheek as she felt his fingers beginning to scramble for the zipper of her jacket.

"What is it... don't you want to?" He asked, his fingers stilling immediately.

"It's just... He..._ Doyle_ did something... Something which might change the way you feel about this." She sighed, facing the possibility that he might not want her once he realised how she had been marked.

"What did he do Emily?" He growled, angry but not at her.

"You know... If we turn the light out..." She began to postulate but he cut her off immediately...

"I don't want you to hide away from me Emily." He told her, lunging for her lips once again as his fingers closed around the zipper...

_*****Can I make it better with the lights turned on?*****_

Waves of panic washed over her as he lowered the zipper and began to pull the jacket apart. She had expected to be overcome by feelings of disgust when this happened, simply because she had been convinced that she would be filled with the memory of Doyle's hands on her. But Aaron's touch was entirely different, feather light and gently she barely noticed the jacket being manipulated until it fell to her elbows. She was brought back to the present only by his sad utterance of her name.

His eyes were fixed on her breasts and whilst in ordinary circumstances she would have been flattered, she knew his reaction was not simply to the way her cleavage looked in her electric blue bra. He was fixated on the harsh red blister which was beginning to form over the first clove of what he would soon discover was a four leaf clover.

"He.._.branded _you?" His tone was one of disbelief.

"Hey... We've seen worse right?" She tried to make light of the situation, her lips brushing against the tips of his fingers in an attempt to stop him from touching the still searing skin.

"He BRANDED you?" His voice had raised an octave and he punctuated the sentence by slamming his palm against the roof.

"Ssh... Aaron... It's Ok... Ssh." She soothed suddenly conscious of their prospective audience.

"This..." He started, his fingers closing around the clasp on her bra and snapping it open with dexterity and skill "is not..." he slid the garment from her arms and laid it on the seat beside them, "Ok." He finished as he looked up at her burning skin with sad and regret-filled eyes.

"If I had gotten here sooner... What am I thinking? We have to get you to a hospital." He started, hanging his head.

"Aaron, you got him and I'm alive – I think I have a lot to be thankful for. That means more to me than some brand... There's nothing the hospital can do for it now... what's a little while longer?" She soothed, not allowing him to go down the road of what-if.

"What about infection?" He seemed concerned and she was flattered.

"Let me worry about that." She tried to smile, not sure how comfortable she was sitting in the Yukon so exposed. It must have shown on her face if his next suggestion was anything to go by.

"You're beautiful." He promised earnestly and she wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to that. 'Thank you sir' hardly seemed appropriate but she had to do something to fill the awkward silence.

Instead of speaking she gave a nervous giggle to deflect his compliment, she had never been good with them the fact that it came from him seemed to exacerbate her embarrassment.

"I mean it Emily." He insisted, leaning closer to her and allowing his lips to trail down the valley between her breasts. He was careful not to touch the brand in all its angriness since the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

Her body reacted to the searing heat of his lips on her skin in a way which entirely opposed her response to the intrusive pain she had experience earlier. Her body felt like it was jumping, each brush of his lips against her igniting a new spark until she was so hot for him she thought she might spontaneously combust at any given movement.

She felt her body arching in his arms until she felt the delicious meeting of his lips and her sensitive buds. This union caused her to moan loudly. She knew she shouldn't she knew there was every possibility that the team were just outside but she couldn't contain herself. In her over sensitised state even the most platonic of touches from this man would have sent her pulse racing but having him lavish so much attention on her when she felt so delicate was almost too much. As he began to trace his lips over the underside of her breasts she felt her hand slide into her hair and then she physical hit the roof. When she opened her eyes Aaron was looking up at her in mild amazement. She couldn't help the smile which she could feel creeping onto her face despite the way her cheeks blazed with embarrassment. She shifted against him again, pulling her upper body close to his.

"I'm sorry." She murmured a little half heartedly.

"No... Don't be sorry, don't ever be sorry. That was damned sexy." He replied, kissing her protruding collarbone.

"So... I'm thinking realistically ,we probably don't have a lot of time." She told him and he was a little unsure of where she was going with this, until that was he felt her grappling with his shirt and pants simultaneously.

"Emily wait..."

She cut him off with her reply "Don't waste your breath, why don't you focus on my pants and let me worry about the rest." She told him and he was surprised by her forwardness. That being said he knew a good thing when he heard one.

In a matter of seconds she had managed to open his short, whether there were any button left was another question entirely and could cause problems since he had to face the team after this but he would cross that bridge when he came to it. In the meantime, there was a beautiful, half naked woman in his arms and she needed his full attention.

Whilst she quickly and somewhat unfathomably managed to divest him of the dress pants he wore, he fumbled with the fastening of her black cargo pants. He bit his frustrations into the side of his mouth to save him lashing out but he was feeling tense and the pressure of their potential audience almost made him want to give up. He had never been a quitter but he was close to admitting defeat with this woman.

"Here... let me help you with that." She laughed lifting herself up a little and angling herself towards him so that he could access the button and zip. He drew the cargos and her electric blue panties down her shapely thighs painfully slowly and the moment his hands brushed her inner thighs, her passions were alive, her whole body on fire.

She worked his boxers over his muscular thighs with a speed which surprised even her. She guessed she was more desperate for his touch than she had thought. Finally, they were in a similar state of undress, save for his half opened shirt. They were both equally exposed to one another and she had to admit, she liked what she saw _and_ felt.

"If there was time I would..." He started but she stopped him with a hot and swift kiss.

"I know, I understand." She whispered, settling her hands on his strong shoulders.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise." He told her with a sincerity which touched her heart.

"Aaron it's _Ok." _She assured him, reaching down and allowing her fingers to gently stroke him as he accepted the fact that there were just some occasions for unconventional sex, that didn't mean it meant any less, it just meant that they were adaptable. The main thing was they were together and that was all that mattered.

A low and guttural growl escaped him as she continued her ministrations and she knew then that he was as ready for her as she was for him. She waited a moment more before letting herself drop down onto him...

She regretted the action almost immediately. Not because she regretted their arriving at this stage but because however worked up she might have been, she was most certainly not prepared for him. It had been a long time for her and as she felt him filling her more completely than any man had in the longest time, she felt her muscles begin to spasm in protest. She looked into his eyes and she knew from the concern she saw reflected there that she was projecting pain. He held her steady, not daring to move as she let herself adjust and it did not take long for her to begin to recognise the differences between the two types of pain she had experienced tonight. The first had been excruciating and seemingly never ending whereas the pain she felt now was almost pleasurable and would soon subside. She would soon be riding waves of unadulterated bliss and he would be the cause of them. She silenced any concern he had been about to vocalise with a deep and passionate kiss as she began to move her hips against his, making slow concentric circles until he realised that she was Ok and that she could take what he had...

The noises she was making were enough to send him into a state of ecstasy. She was beautiful, vivacious and vocal and he loved everything about her. He wasn't afraid to admit that he felt that way about her, it was the truth. He held her tightly as they moved together, her teeth sinking into the skin of his shoulder in an effort to contain her excitement and he realised that nothing outside of the Yukon mattered to him – not the harshness she would surely meet with, not the multiple questions he still had for her. There was only her and she was all that mattered to him right now.

She ground herself harder against him as she felt herself building towards a climax, needing if it was even possible to take in more of him, to feel as close to him as was humanly and physically possible. She threw back her head as she felt him surge up into her, the strength and power of the motion causing them both to rise up off the seat. When they landed after their short falls, the humour of it seemed to catch them both and the both laughed throatily as they realised perhaps for the first time the true extent of the risk they were taking. He caught her lips again, his kisses becoming fierce and passionate until she was gasping not simply because of the impending crescendo of their encounter but also through lack of breath.

He had entered a trance like state wherein the only thing that seemed to reach his contemplation was the sound of her chest hitting against his as he pumped into her and she met him every step of the way. Soon he became aware of a change in her breathing, it had become suddenly shallow and the rate at which she was exhaling seemed to have decreased. It sounded almost like she was struggling for breath. He angled himself away from her slightly so he could look into her face.

"Emily... Are you alright?" He asked through his own increasingly laboured breath.

"I'm... Yes...Oh God... Oh God..." The words were barely audible over the heaviness of her breathing.

"You're never going to be alone again." He promised and it seemed to be the only thing which made sense to him as he lost the remainder of his control.

"I know... Aaron I..." She begged, struggling to keep her tone low.

"I know." He soothed and as she opened her eyes, locking them with his she knew he understood what she meant.

"Thank you." She whispered as they both tumbled over the edge and they both sensed those two words had a double meaning...

* * *

"What's going to happen now?" JJ asked when she had gotten over the shock enough to articulate something resembling actual speech.

"Well..."Dave began in that tone which told them all that he was about to impart some words of wisdom "It'll take some time but I think we have to rebuild this team." He told them all simply, shifting from foot to foot as he waited for the reaction of his team.

"That's right we have to remember that we're a family." Garcia spoke up from the sidelines, just to remind everyone of why they worked.

"You know statistically its teams like..." Reid piped up but Morgan cut across him

"You know what kid? This time statistics won't work, this is hardly a normal situation." Morgan interceded before turning and breaking away from the group.

"Think he's going to be Ok?" Reid asked in a small voice as Morgan stood a short distance away dragging his heels through the dirt and probably contemplating all the ways he had failed his partner and all the ways she had failed him...

"Only one way to find out." Rossi replied, sucking in a breath and motioning for the team to head back to the Yukon.

* * *

JJ, flicked the handle of the door but took a step back in mild surprise when she found that it was locked. She would have shrugged it off but it was strange that Hotch was nowhere to be seen. She wondered where he could have gotten to, she knew for a fact that he had not accompanied Emily to the hospital and yet he had not been in the building whilst they had been processing the scene. When it came to it she hadn't seen Emily herself in a while. It was all a little bit strange, until that was, she heard the sound of gasping breath coming from inside the Yukon...

She stepped closer, trying to peer in through the window but finding her view obstructed by the privacy glass.

"Em? Em is that you?" She asked concernedly.

For the longest time she was greeted with nothing but the soft gasping from the interior, until the voice of her unit chief responded to her question.

"Everything's fine JJ, Emily just wanted to talk – I thought with the situation the way it is she would appreciate some privacy, that's all – give me a second." He told her and whilst she was far from accepting of this, he was using his SSAIC voice and she didn't like to challenge him.

"Well is Em Ok?" She probed a little further as she noticed that the sound of her friend had been quieted.

There was a long and humming silence, during which she was sure she heard them scrambling around inside...

"Shit." He murmured as quietly as he could as they sat there trying not to move for fear of the true nature of their 'conversation' being discovered.

"We have to get out of here." She whispered.

"I think maybe we should put some clothes on first, wouldn't want to shock the team anymore than they have been already." He tried to contain his laugh as she dug her short nails into his shoulders.

"Very funny." She replied sarcastically as she reached down beside him for her underwear.

"Emily I..." He started but he didn't quite know what to say as he watched her, somewhat miraculously managed to get her aching body back into her clothes.

When she had successfully zipped her jacket, she leant in close to him her teeth catching his earlobe and tugging it gently before she spoke again, her voice no more than a whisper. "I love you, you know."

If he was surprised he didn't have time to show it and so as she helped him finish buttoning his shirt and swung her legs off of him until she was once again sitting beside him, he replied in the only way he felt was natural "I love you too." The words were few but the meaning was great and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop another torrent of tears.

"Feel better now?" He asked loudly enough for their blonde friend to hear.

"I think so." She replied, trying to hold back a laugh. "Give us a minute would you Jayje? I just need to clean my face up a bit- I don't want everyone to see me like this." She spoke up.

"Umm... Sure. Great. The team's almost ready to go Ok?" JJ replied and then they heard her footfalls beginning to recede again.

"So..." He said after a while, "ready?" He finished after a brief pause.

"Umm... Hold up, just one second." She replied as she noticed his collar was up. "Now we're ready." She laughed as she he pulled up the thumb lock.

* * *

"So, good news..." Hotch spoke up from the driver's seat a few minutes later.

" Oh?" Rossi spoke up out of curiosity.

"I managed to convince Emily to go to the hospital." He told them with a slight smile on his face as his eyes found hers in the rear view mirror.

Her eyes sparkled at the unspoken challenge but she didn't say anything, she knew it was an order and not a question... She would go, because she had to. That didn't mean that she wouldn't get him back later though...

* * *

**There it is, sorry it's later than planned – had to drive my sister back to uni so haven't been able to finish up on this today but it's here and I hope you like it. I know that the Yukon probably isn't the craziest place, but I wanted to play up the risk factor and I think that makes it crazy, this is just my take and I hope it's Ok. I had limited time to think of it so this was my fast-response storyline. I hope you'll let me know what you thought of it. **

**I hope I caught all the edits, if not forgive me. **

**Thanks for reading, **

**Love _X~Michelle~X_**


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